Chapter Twenty-Three - Hey Bus Driver (again!)

Chapter 23- Hey Bus Driver

To my students, our busses are cleverly disguised sex nests. It can’t be the aroma: something between mildew, toe jam and dead rodent. More likely it is related to the lack of adult supervision. The driver’s eyes are on the road, while my students eyes are on each other. My students thrive on an audience of their peers for everything from class clowning to sex acts.

The students have all gone home for the day, but Shandon’s mother is on the phone and she is not pleased. She has been very active in and supportive of our school. She meets regularly with Daphne, Shandon’s teacher, she sends notes in response to teacher comments in Shandon’s planner and unlike most Prospect parents, she doesn’t curse in our presence. Daphne reports that Shandon’s mother sometimes seems to baby Shandon, treating him as if he were younger than his twelve years. Shandon is a slight, black, sixth grader who likes to joke around but is rarely a major behavior problem. We hope to send him back to public school at the end of the school year. This afternoon when he got off the bus he was upset. He tells his mother that Antwonn and Elden were masturbating on the bus and afterwards they rubbed their semen on his face.

The following day, at our 8:00 am daily meeting this subject is raised with much tittering and disbelief. Shasta, the transportation coordinator, checks the seating chart for Shandon’s bus looking for potential witnesses and determines two elementary students sit nearby. Rusty offers to interrogate them separately when they arrive. Shandon’s mother is driving him this morning; after yesterday’s event she will not trust the bus until we complete our investigation. The elementary boys substantiate the allegation. Their language is crude, but their descriptions match. Shasta and I question the two suspects. Questioning Antwonn is ineffective. Antwonn is a small, unhappy, thirteen year old black boy who lives with his Grandmother in a very small shack. When Antwonn wants to express himself, (which he rarely does with adults) he speaks as one raised by wolves - growling, grunting and teeth gnashing. With practice I am able to discern random words and much profanity, but the basic message is garbled as though he has rocks in his mouth. And in fact, he often does have a chewed up pen cap in his mouth. Making him remove it only causes more cursing and little increase in intelligible communication. Elden, the other suspect, is also a black thirteen year old, but unlike Antwonn, Elden is very bright, articulate and always smiling. But Elden likes to push the edge of the envelope. If told to stop, he goes; he stands when you say sit. Elden’s mother is a Deputy Sheriff and he never wants her called. Of course we use that threat regularly and at least once a week Elden’s behavior causes us to make good on it. As I reach for the phone to call Mom, Elden confesses they were “pretending” to masturbate but they didn’t really and it wasn’t semen, it was hand cream.

Elden and Antwonn are off the bus for two weeks and we do call Elden’s mother.

Some “bus sex acts” don’t require a moving bus. A parked bus will work just fine. It all began a few weeks after the Elden/Antwonn incident. We wanted to encourage whole families (parents, guardians and children) to have fun together at a Fall Festival. When we brainstorm a list of wholesome activities (apple bobbing, face painting, donut eating, cake walking, pie throwing, sack racing, ball throwing and cheerleading) no one mentions sex on a bus. But that doesn’t stop my students from adding it to the Fall Festival schedule.

At first blush, the Festival seems to be a smashing success (especially the pie throwing at Stone Simmons). About half the parents arrive only to drop off or pick up their children, but others come early and participate. Jillane’s Dad is here all evening. Strangely he does not participate. He stands outside the cafeteria in the dark, just out of reach of the beam from the street lamp, watching. He is a single parent, a white man, and Jillane, a fourteen-year-old black girl is his second daughter. His first daughter had a baby while a teenager and died young. We often have to call Dad about Jillane’s misbehavior. Jillane is by far the brightest and best-educated student at Prospect. She is witty, eloquent and writes decent poetry. Tonight Jillane participates with glee in the cheerleading demonstration. But at the end of the evening, she is nowhere to be found.

Rusty, Shasta and I take flashlights and go hunt for Jillane. Jillane’s father stays glued to his spot in the shadows. Shouting Jillane’s name, unlocking and searching every classroom, we look for over half an hour. I am worried and annoyed. Was she kidnapped? Did she run away? Should I call 911? Why do I organize these evening events?! I feel the clock ticking and my leadership skills faltering when shouts from Shasta pierce the darkness: she’s found Jillane. Jillane and Tayshaun, our football hero, are on a bus on South campus. It is the mini bus, the bus we don’t use except for emergencies.

We stand in the circle of light beaming from the lamppost - the one Jillane’s Dad has been avoiding all evening. Rosie, Rusty, Shasta and I ask questions, chastise, interrogate, reprimand. Everyone is talking at once except Tayshaun, who says nothing, and Jillane’s Dad, who says little. Tayshaun’s mother comes to pick him up. We give her “just the facts” so she can deal with the situation; I have a hunch she will do nothing. Jillane is quite effusive. She tells us we have dirty minds if we think anything was going on with Tayshaun in the bus. She is so genuine and persuasive, I want to believe her, I almost believe her. Shasta tells Jillane she is robbing the cradle (Tayshaun is 12). Jillane’s Dad barely speaks but makes Jillane apologize for inconveniencing us. It is late. We decide to call it a night.

The next morning, students are overhead by their bus driver (eavesdropping drivers provide essential crime tips) saying Jillane and Tayshaun left “something” on the bus. Shasta is off to investigate. A few minutes later I see Shasta walking across campus with her arm extended and items dangling from her hand. I sense something is repulsing her and she is trying to distance herself from the object. Inside my office she ceremoniously places a bra, panties (a thong) and a handkerchief on my desk. She said there was a used condom there as well, but she wasn’t picking that up in her bare hands. I summon Jillane to my office. I phone her father at work and put him on speakerphone. Jillane admits the clothing is hers, the handkerchief is Tayshaun’s. Her father is not pleased. He sounds defeated, tired. This girl is too much for him. Jillane has an explanation. She always carries an extra pair of panties on the pocket of her jeans (she demonstrates by putting the contraband thong in her pocket.) Her father almost sounds like he believes this outrageous fiction. He agrees to come by later and pick up the underwear and talk with me. Dad doesn’t stop in for several days. I put Jillane’s unmentionables in a manila envelope in my out basket. When Dad does arrive he tells me he took our advice and brought Jillane to the doctor for a pregnancy test. Enroute she asked her father whether the doctor would be able to tell if she was a virgin. Dad said yes. Jillane then confessed she not only had sex with Tayshaun but also with another boy last summer, when she was thirteen. Presumably not on a bus.